


Can Your Heart Rate Rise a Little

by Habie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Habie/pseuds/Habie
Summary: It’s wordless when Aziraphale closes the space on the couch between the two and leans on Crowley. It’s almost effortless when he reaches for the demon’s hand and laces their fingers together. Crowley feels his heart jump into his throat and can’t add any jokes to the show for the rest of the night. He tries, but sounds die before they can reach his mouth. Aziraphale fills in the snarky gaps as if he hadn't just thrown the entire day on its ear.





	Can Your Heart Rate Rise a Little

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a 100 word "hey here's a concept" tumblr post but then I kept on going so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ here we are. I hope you like it.
> 
> Title is from the Dodie Clark song, 'Would You Be So Kind.

Crowley thinks often - more often than he’s comfortable with - about just telling Aziraphale how he feels. He knows how he feels, of course. He's had six thousand years to marinate in his own feelings and become really, truly familiar with every facet of them. In his own mind it all feels so loud, a constant screaming, but he always loses his courage when it comes to standing in front of Aziraphale and forming the words.

But the apocalypse was avoided and heaven and hell are off of their cases for the time being and things have started to come back to normal. They spend time together, a lot of time, so much time. And without having to hide or secretly arrange spy movie rendezvous or pretend they haven’t been friends for six thousand years, it’s ...nice. It’s easy and effortless and comfortable and Crowley is happy and Aziraphale seems happy too, so he quietly tells himself that he’s not going to risk anything with words or feelings and lets things unfold as they will. This is good just the way it is.

Aziraphale comes over to Crowley’s apartment fairly often to watch some mindless TV show - Crowley has a far nicer television, Aziraphale doesn’t watch enough to justify owning a decent set - and those nights are usually all easy conversation and comfortable silence. There are snacks and intermittent commentary and laughing and a routine that let's Crowley's constant background hum of anxiety withdraw slightly.

It’s wordless when Aziraphale closes the space on the couch between the two and leans on Crowley. It’s almost effortless when he reaches for the demon’s hand and laces their fingers together. Crowley feels his heart jump into his throat and can’t add any jokes to the show for the rest of the night. He tries, but sounds die before they can reach his mouth. Aziraphale fills in the snarky gaps as if he hadn't just thrown the entire day on its ear.

Before he heads back to the bookstore he leaves a peck on the corner of the demon’s mouth. Crowley had been forming a goodbye, but it’s dust in his throat now. Aziraphale grins and waves and leaves and is gone and Crowley shuts the door to his flat before digging the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

A few weeks later they’re in the bookshop sharing a drink and a laugh about tricking Gabriel into letting Aziraphale stay on Earth all those years ago. Crowley’s regained his ability to meaningfully interact with the angel as quiet hand holding and soft kisses have become commonplace, but he’s been silent about it. Noticeably silent. Deafeningly silent. Why question a good thing? And Aziraphale hasn’t said anything as he shifted their dynamic either, he just did it.

Crowley saunters back to the couch with a fresh glass and drops himself next to his angel, draping his right arm over the back cushioning of the sofa and finding a comfortable home on shoulders. The angel is looking vaguely towards the window, his mouth in his signature toothy smile but his eyes are distracted and focusless, miles away. Crowley nudges him expectantly and his attention snaps back around.

“You ok?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale nods, holding his hands in his lap stiffly. “Just thinking.”

“Anything good?”

“I - Yeah. I wanted to thank you.” Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up in question. “For being patient all this time.”

“Not following.”

“I mean…” He shifts uncomfortably, the words feel awkward and heavy and too big. “I mean, I know you’ve been waiting for me to catch up for a long time. You were comfortable being friends before I was and with our work arrangement before I was. And you fell in love before I did - much before I was willing to acknowledge it. And I know you’ve been… you know… All in, I think they say, since the start probably. And what I’m saying is I appreciate your patience, is all.”

Crowley blinks, processing and dumbstruck into silence. He tries anyway. “You what?”

“I’m just thankful is-”

“No not that bit! The entire rest. That part about falling in love?”

“Y-yes?”

“Since when exactly?!”

“I- um… Forty-one?”

"Nineteen Forty One?"

"Yes?"

“And how long have you known that I…” He trails off, but points rapidly back and forth between himself and Aziraphale.

"A while. I don’t know exactly but a while.”

Crowley stares at the angel for a long moment, flustered and annoyed and elated.

“Is this - is everything ok?” Aziraphale asks after a little, his nervousness not even poorly masked.

“You could have,” Crowley starts, his thoughts an entire galaxy of conflicting information and questions, bumping into each other and screaming for dominance. “I would have said it on my bloody own eventually.”

Confusion takes Aziraphale's face before the clarity and understanding hits in a wave. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I sort of… assumed we were on the same page.”

“I’ve been trying to find your page," Crowley replies in a mumble.

The angel's smile is nervous and wavering, but soft and kind and growing, and Crowley finds his very thin resolve melting away entirely. “Well, you’ve found it,” Aziraphale finally says, a little quiet but also with just a bit of edge and chiding.

“‘Bout goddamn time,” the demon replies, his voice dry but his grin unmistakable as he pulls his arm tighter around Aziraphale, who’s head leans into his shoulder almost reflexively.

“Well, if you’d like to tell me now…” Aziraphale says, a his voice toeing the line between joke and soft sincerity.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens is one of the 3 books that made me want to write and now that it has a show... That's GOOD?! I'm dying a little on the inside of happiness. And THESE TWO. And HOW CUTE AND OBVIOUSLY IN LOVE THEY ARE.
> 
> ANYWAY, big thanks to my buds Katie and James for looking at this bad boy and giving me some feedback before I came here with it.
> 
> As always, feel free to come be my friend on  
> Tumblr at CallMeHabie  
> Instagram at Habie_Cosplays (I'm working on lots of fun cosplays) &  
> Twitter at Habie_Cosplays.  
> Tell me the fic sent you, I'll love it!  
> I also have a linktree, which may be a ton easier to navigate. ---> https://linktr.ee/habie_cosplays


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